


Gods of War

by queen_insane



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_insane/pseuds/queen_insane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silva, Bond, Scars, Commonality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gods of War

Naked, the scars on Bond’s back are constellations, each mark a map to a different moment in his life – a different fight. Silva undresses him like by taking of his clothes like he’s taking off the clouds in the night sky, each bit of them obstructing the view to what one really wants to see. With deft fingers he finds each scar and traces them, softer than Bond believed he could. Gun and oil fingers are not meant for this kindness. Follows each destruction and moment of servitude, kisses each one until all of Bond bleeds out empty. Then he turns Bond on his back and begins anew. 

Kisses up, and up and up until he reaches bloody Mars on Bond’s collarbone. The red star, the wartime star. Silva kisses it until it blushes even fiercer crimson, until it’s too bright for even Bond to look at. He inflames it – whispers of god’s betrayal, of her own reckless abandon. Coaxes it into a slow life. Mars cannot help but wake up then, it’s slumber interrupted. Hands drag Silva’s face up to Bond’s, lips up to kisses where Bond whispers soothing words, attempting to comfort Silva’s own Ares. Attempting to comfort his own need for destruction, for wanton violence to rend and destroy; a voice that answers Silva’s Ares with fists and bullets, and promises of her death, where Silva and Bond are one in the same. Eventually the voice quiets and Bond breathes, unfettered. 

When everything is quiet again, Bond turns Silva to the bed, presses his back into the soft down and speaks in hushed tones into Silva’s ear, “My turn.”

Naked, the scars on Silva’s back are constellations, each mark a map.

**Author's Note:**

> I do seem to love a good allegory.


End file.
